


Bugs

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ficlet, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:09:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21402427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Loqi hates everything, even robot hand jobs.
Relationships: Prompto Argentum/Loqi Tummelt
Comments: 6
Kudos: 48





	Bugs

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

Loqi’s in a foul mood, and he makes sure _everyone_ knows it.

He hates his job. He hates his life. He hates every last one of his underlings, and sometimes, he even hates the Emperor, because sometimes the strategies he employs are absolutely ludicrous. If Loqi was in charge, they would’ve won the war already, but instead the Emperor listens to sleeze-bags like the Chancellor and disloyal mercenaries like Highwind. That’s not even getting started on Ravus, who Loqi’s always sure will turn on them at any given moment. No one _listens_ to him. He bristles with tension and irritation and the knowledge that no one around him is worth release—he’s surrounded by ugly fools and _idiots._

When he’s desperate for relief—only when he’s _truly_ desperate—he has to sneak all the way down through the barracks, in and around the largest production facility in Gralea, along its dirty back alleys and into its grimy chambers. He tries not to be seen, but those that do see him won’t dare report it. He searches for a certain useless lackey amongst the army of worker bee machines. Then he spots the MT that he’s looking for. 

It’s crossing the hall with a large container in its hands, probably full of new weapons. Loqi slinks into the shadows, waits until the MT is walking by, then pounces. He grabs it around the waist. It yelps and drops the boxes, swivels around, and pulls a gun out of nowhere, then registers its attacker and straightens up. It salutes, chirping, “Brigadier General!”

Loqi doesn’t greet it back. He snatches up its wrist, fingers closing around the black barcode, and tugs it off, searching for an empty room. There’s one lined in bunk beds with an overhead light that barely works. Loqi shoves the MT inside, wedges the door shut with a chair, and tries to back the MT up against the wall.

The MT doesn’t move like it should. It’s not _afraid of him_ like it should be. Its blue eyes sparkle with _life_ that Loqi whole-heartedly denies. He shoves one hand into its yellow hair and jerks it against him, tongue diving into its open mouth. Its lips are smooth, soft, wet and even _warm_, so very much like a _human’s_, but Loqi knows it isn’t. It’s just a puppet of the Empire. It smiles so sweetly at him, and it sucks his tongue with vigor, moaning into his mouth, but those are all just lies. Even when Loqi leaves it, and it pants breathlessly, Loqi doesn’t fall for the disguise. He orders, “Get me off.” And it leaps to obey.

It lunges at him, pulling him back in, five fingers threading through his hair and the other running down his uniform. His armour isn’t on yet, but there are still plenty of layers for it to squirm through—it ducks beneath his tunic, pushes under his belt, slides right into his underwear and wraps tight around the base of his cock. Loqi chokes into the MT’s mouth. He wants to yell at it for daring to stroke him dry, but then its backing _him_ against the wall, and suddenly, it’s stroking him. Loqi groans and bucks forward—it chafes and burns, but maybe he likes it that way—likes it _rough_. He likes feeling its warm hands pumping his dick, thumb swirling around the head and fingers rubbing the underside. The MT’s learned some new tricks since last time, which pisses Loqi off, because maybe someone else has realized how _pretty_ this one is and started the same ritual. Or maybe it’s jerking _itself_ off in between shifts, which sounds insane, because MTs are empty husks incapable of feeling. 

This one whimpers like it loves every second. It ruts into Loqi, devours Loqi with one starving kiss after another, and feels him up whilst stroking his cock. Loqi tries to pull away, tries to make it less _personal_—there’s no need to make out. But then he’ll get caught in the slight upturn of its lips or the smattering of freckles across its nose—it’s so _cute_. It even blushes. It tastes like strawberries and engine oil. 

It brings Loqi to the edge, and then Loqi’s pushing it down, because he’s not walking away with a mess in his trousers. The MT gets on its knees and pulls Loqi’s dick out just enough to cover the head. The MT locks its lips around it and _sucks_, which is enough for Loqi to burst. He screams as the MT opens wider, taking more inside, and eagerly swallows him down. 

Loqi shivers and pants. He comes more than he ever does with anyone else, even with real, _human_ partners. He empties himself completely in the MT’s greedy mouth. Then he pushes away and hurriedly tucks himself back in, thoroughly embarrassed. 

The MT pushes back up to its feet. It wipes its mouth off on its arm, then has the audacity to _smile_ at Loqi. Maybe it thinks Loqi will return the favour. For a moment, Loqi seriously considers it, and then his skin crawls, because he’s fallen _so far_.

He shoves the MT back. He mutters, “We’re not friends.”

The MT shrugs its round shoulders. It grunts, “Okey dokey,” so bizarrely colloquial. And it gives Loqi a sympathetic look like it knows _he’s lying._

Loqi hates it. He leaves, flustered but satisfied, somehow even more worked up than before. He tells himself he won’t come back, and at the time, he means it.


End file.
